Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Chapter 291 Fear

Silence is a guest that appears too frequently among them, almost silently seizing control and becoming the true master of this place.

But perhaps, just perhaps, everything here was meant to be this way.

Quietness and silence are the dominant themes in this courtyard, this room, this space. A territory where only a gentle breeze blows, only the fragrance of flowers wafts, only the faintest sounds and the shallowest breaths occur.

Rinko realized it too late.

Perhaps he is the real uninvited guest here. Without receiving an invitation or obtaining the owner's permission, he hastily brought noise, disturbing the tranquility that should exist here, and causing this chaos and commotion.

They drove out the original owner of this place.

And now, he opened his mouth, once again, to refute, to deny, to interrupt the voice of the existing master here, and to banish silence once more.

"fraud."

He said.

Another instance of impolite remarks.

This time, his speech was even more powerful than the last. Rinko's patience was being worn down little by little, almost visibly so. But even without looking, one could tell the changing emotions from his voice. The boy may have found the calmest voice he could muster, but even so, he couldn't truly hide his emotions. His irritability was suppressed beneath his words, but his impatience was what truly mattered.

Humans are creatures that can lie, and even this man named Ubuyashiki is no exception. He is human, or rather, he is human.

Rinko was not surprised by this.

That's how it should be.

That's how it should be.

But don't know why.

Things did not go as he had expected. He did not feel calm, nor did he anticipate that everything would be normal. On the contrary, he was not calm at all, not at all.

He even developed an uncontrollable emotion about it—irritability.

He couldn't understand why this feeling arose, where it came from, or what caused it.

He shouldn't be agitated, he shouldn't have such emotional fluctuations, didn't he already know that?

Humans lie, and Ubuyashiki is also human, so it's only natural that Ubuyashiki would lie. It's expected, and everything should be this way.

And now, just as he had initially suspected, the man was lying.

He already knew it.

What's there to be angry about?

He should be happy, because his prediction was accurate once again. This is progress, his progress, and he should be happy about it.

but no.

why.

Why isn't he happy?

No one could answer him.

"Liar? That's a pretty serious accusation. Why would Rinko say that about me?"

This is not an explanation, not an excuse, nothing, and there's no rush.

It was almost like changing the subject.

However, the technique used was quite clumsy.

Even Rinko wouldn't be distracted by such a topic.

"Because you are lying."

"What kind of things would make Rinko think I'm lying?"

Ubuyashiki asked him this in a gentle voice and a tender tone. It wasn't an accusation, but rather a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and something else that Rinko couldn't quite decipher.

The silence didn't last long, and it wasn't intentional.

Rinko didn't rush to answer, not intentionally, but more out of instinct; his breathing quickened.

If he had thought Ubuyashiki hadn't explained anything just now, it's now almost impossible for him not to think it's Ubuyashiki's sophistry.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

This silence is perhaps the most dangerous, the most terrifying, and yet the most tender thing in the world.

Just like the night itself.

The darkness itself is not frightening; it is the creatures that exist in the darkness, the unknown fears, and the known dangers that are truly frightening.

The night itself is not dangerous. It is quiet and still, and all things enter a silent slumber. It is a safe and harmonious time and does not really make people feel dangerous. But the existence of things that take advantage of this habit is the real danger.

The real danger lies in sneaking through windows and into houses while people are asleep and off guard, annihilating those still asleep, leaving them with only terror and despair in their final dreams.

“You said, ‘Death is not something to be afraid of.’”

Rinko tried to repeat the sentence in the calmest tone possible, as if trying to imitate the tone he used when he said it.

But the boy's voice was not exactly gentle; it was slightly low and carried emotion. Ubuyashiki believed that the boy himself might not even realize how clearly and obviously that emotion was expressed.

"This is not a lie; everything I'm saying is the truth."

His voice remained gentle, without explanation or sophistry; his stance was clear and unambiguous. Ubuyashiki expressed his views in the same way, using tone and voice.

But clearly, there were other beings in this room who did not agree with his views, who held opposing opinions and disapproval of him, breathing heavily in the air not far away, their breaths so heavy that he could almost smell them.

"Rinko himself said that he was not afraid of death, but he was unwilling to believe that there was a second being in the world like you. He had the same view as you, that death was not something to be afraid of, and that death itself did not make him feel fear."

A simple question, a plain narration, a genuine opinion.

Being able to clearly feel death approaching is not a very common experience.

Ubuyashiki's life was anything but ordinary. He didn't think his life was particularly great or spectacular; he simply wanted to help as many people as possible and to fulfill his mission.

Looking back, he realized that his life had been somewhat turbulent, and unlike others, he had experienced many things that ordinary people wouldn't. His intuition was one of them, and getting to know these children was also a significant part of that.

Even so, he still felt that such an experience was rare.

But this was not enough to frighten him; it was simply an inevitability. The true meaning of life lies in reincarnation. The physical body is not eternal, but the spirit and beliefs are. Those things recorded in writing and flowing in the blood are what will truly be passed down forever.

Therefore, he was not afraid of death, nor was he afraid of it. It was an inevitable outcome. He simply couldn't help but think about how to make his death as meaningful as possible.

The question that was thrown out remained suspended in the air, neither falling nor being caught.

The boy sat there, in an improper posture.

After the topic shifted, his posture almost simultaneously expressed his emotions, gradually changing from gentle and polite to losing his manners, sense of propriety, and decorum.

Now, the boy has almost no patience left.

Tenon spoke very softly, her voice reaching Ubuyashiki's ears, only slightly louder than the wind blowing past his ear. Her words formed sentences, describing the scene he could not see.

The boy sat on the ground in the shadows. At first, he knelt obediently with his knees together and his hands on his thighs. Later, he gradually began to move his body slightly, not because he was tired, but because his emotions were being expressed.

Now, the boy is sitting there, on the ground, one leg tucked in front of him, bent and pressed against the floor, the other leg is already up, the sole of his foot on the ground, his arm is on his knee, and his center of gravity is leaning forward, a posture that can be described as hostile.

Considering that the conversation was not progressing smoothly, Ubuyashiki was not too surprised by this part, especially after he had gained a new understanding of the boy. He thought that Rinko's behavior now seemed more normal.

Ubuyashiki lay on the ground, but she was not afraid.

Outside the open door, the sun still hung in the sky, beginning to slant and approach the ground. The shadows moved silently, growing wider and farther with each passing second.

But that's not enough to create a sense of fear.

The sun had not yet set.

But even if it falls.

Ubuyashiki didn't expect Rinko to rush over and bare her fangs or claws at him.

Muzan Kibutsuji isn't that kind of guy. If he really wanted to kill someone who was already powerless to resist and who had always been a thorn in the other's side, that man would never leave such a thing to someone else. He would do it himself, humiliate his prey who could no longer move, and then tear his flesh and neck apart.

Ubuyashiki could reach this conclusion without any speculation.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Rinko had no idea what Ubuyashiki was thinking. He felt he couldn't comprehend this man's mind, just like now.

The man lay on the ground, barely breathing, exhaling more air than he could inhale, perfectly illustrating the meaning of "clinging to life."

Even so, even though he had become so wretched and vulnerable, he did not die, did not yield, and did not give in. He clung to his last flame with some unknown belief.

An unusually stubborn streak.

It was as if he had the courage to face the approaching darkness.

Does he really know what darkness represents? Does he know what he will face after that? Does he know? Or is it that his brain has completely failed and his body is so sick that it would be perfectly reasonable for his brain to stop functioning?

"Humans are afraid of death. They are terrified of death. Their fear of death has even surpassed the meaning that death itself represents."

Rin finally opened his mouth to answer the question, one he didn't want to answer because Ubuyashiki had lied to him; that humans couldn't be without fear of death was a lie.

But at this moment, he felt that it was meaningless; there was no point in arguing with someone who was about to die.

"If there is a chance to survive, they will choose that possibility without hesitation, no matter what price they have to pay afterward. Broken bones, torn flesh, heads slamming heavily to the ground, blood flowing out, but they will not stop. They will push the other person off the cliff to give themselves a chance to survive."

Ubuyashiki was quiet for a while.

Rinko waited in the brief silence, his impatience slowly subsiding. He displayed all the patience he had left, facing the man who was nearing his end.

"You say that death does not frighten people. But that is a lie. Because people fear death more than anything else."

Ubuyashiki remained quiet, but Rinko was no longer impatient. He simply sat there, his posture unchanged, but his aura subtly shifted. He was no longer tense; his body was relaxed. He was simply sitting there casually, leaning forward, but it didn't feel like the prelude to a hunt. It was more like a curious observation, waiting for a result he already knew.

"Ah, I see. Ha, Rinko is even smarter than I expected."

A compliment, a compliment from a human, wouldn't make Rinko happy, but he wasn't angry either, even though the words seemed to contain some other meaning, some other emotion. Rinko couldn't discern that emotion; all he could do was listen, as if preparing to record Ubuyashiki's last words.

"Does Rinko believe that all humans fear death?"

A question hung in the air, but Rinko didn't answer it because it wasn't a real question, not a rhetorical question. The other person had already expressed their opinion when they spoke, and a denial didn't need his affirmation. Ubuyashiki really did seem like he wasn't asking him anything.

"But there are indeed brave people who are not afraid of death or danger, just like the group of children you know. They are young but brave, and they are willing to sacrifice themselves to protect others. Do you think such people are also afraid of death?"

"The instinct for living is that all living things strive to survive, and humans cannot escape this idea."

The answer was a denial, simple yet straightforward.

Ubuyashiki fell silent for a long time. Rinko interpreted this as a sign of surrender and admission of defeat. Even if the other party did not admit it, tacit consent was a form of admission.

He took this silence as a sign of his victory.

"Miss Shinobu said that this needs to be given to Rinko before dark."

The silence was broken by a voice from outside the door—a childish, sweet, and soft girl's voice. Rinko looked over naturally and saw that they were two sisters. He had never seen them before, but they looked very much like Tenon, so it was not hard to deduce their relationship.

The older one held a medicine bottle in his hand. Demons have a more sensitive sense of smell than humans, and he should have noticed that there were other people here, but it was difficult. He was talking to Ubuyashiki, and the fragrance of the wisteria flowers here was almost tangible, thick and almost sticky to his nostrils.

Tianyin took the bottle of medicine but did not approach him without permission. Instead, she placed the medicine on the ground, where Lingguang tilted his head slightly at the boundary of the shadows.

He took the bottle of medicine, but couldn't resist his curiosity. He shook the bottle in his hand. What could be inside? What would Ren leave him in this situation?

What will happen if he drinks it? And what if he doesn't drink it?

The two little girls ran away after giving the medicine. In the yard, Rinko could now notice their presence.

But that wasn't the point. In fact, at that moment, even the Ubuyashiki lying on the ground was no longer his concern. Rin was more curious about what to do with the bottle of medicine in his hand.

"Do you want to keep it?"

This was Amane's voice. It was the first time the other person had spoken to him. Amane's voice didn't have the incredible power of Ubuyashiki's, but it was just as gentle, or even warmer, perhaps because the other person was a woman.

"if you can."

Rinko answered quickly, but didn't understand the meaning of the question.

Don't they urge him to take his medicine? Isn't medicine meant to be drunk? What will happen if he drinks it? What will happen if he just leaves it in?

No one gave him an answer. Rinko gripped the bottle in his hand, applying slight pressure. The glass bottle made a slight creaking sound. He noticed it and immediately withdrew his grip the moment the faintest sound appeared. A shallow crack appeared on the bottle, a sign of being treated violently.

He didn't intend for it to be like this.

The unexpected turn of events produced an outcome he did not expect, and it was irreversible.

"Then let's use this to pack it up."

Tenon pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. Rinko was familiar with this; he remembered using handkerchiefs before, though larger ones, to wrap things up. What? He couldn't remember. Why wrap it up specifically? Was it because the thing was equally fragile?

Rinko pondered, but found no answer. His empty memories echoed with a terrifying silence that he didn't even notice.

The bottle was placed in the center of the handkerchief, and after a simple and quick packing, the medicine was hung on the belt. It wasn't entirely safe, as it was only secured by the knot of the handkerchief, but it was convenient enough, more convenient than having to hold it with one hand free.

Perhaps he should drink it.

But Rinko wanted to keep a memento because he had a gut feeling that he might not see Shinobu again after tonight, or at least not so peacefully again. They liked Ubuyashiki, and Rinko knew that. He didn't actually dislike Ubuyashiki either.

But for him, there was someone else who was more important.